


Mamihlapinatapai

by AlexOblivion



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy, Academy graduation, Bar, Drinking, Eiffel Tower, Ex-Boyfriends, F/M, Fluff, Original Characters - Freeform, Paris - Freeform, Romance, SHIELD Academy, Slow Build, city of lights, the fluffiest of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexOblivion/pseuds/AlexOblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamihlapinatapai: The Yaghan word for the look of longing between two people who want to initiate something with each other but are afraid to. So basically - Simmons and Fitz. </p><p>Fitzsimmons have just finished presenting their final project to the Academy Board at their annual conference in Paris and have been made Agents of SHIELD. To celebrate, they go out to a bar with some friends, where it is discovered that Jemma's boyfriend has again bailed on their plans. One shot leads to another, and Fitzsimmons find themselves on top of the Eiffel Tower, looking at each other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mamihlapinatapai

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. This one took me a while. I knew I wanted to write it as soon as I saw the word Mamihlapinatapai, but it took a while to develop. I know, I know, I still need to finish my other WIPs, but here's a one shot to hold you over! 
> 
> Also, such fluff!!

“-And as you can see the olfactory components of the D.W.A.R.F. make it possible for this version to catalogue and identify smells from as far as three feet away. It then relays that information to the tablet held by Dr. Fitz, and the system correlates all the data.” Jemma smiled out at the small audience in the conference room, trying her best not to look scared. She was terrified - after all this presentation of their work would determine whether she and Fitz graduated from the Academy and moved on to a prestigious research position in SHIELD or not. 

“Of course, the uses of these devices are too many to count, but Dr. Fitz and I see them mainly as reconnaissance assistants and field technicians’ aids, since they can obtain a wide range of data very quickly and conveniently. They pack down into a single suitcase, so they are very transportable. Are there any questions?” She wished she could wring her hands, just to let off some of the nervous energy bouncing around inside her. As if he knew how we was feeling - Fitz never seemed nervous, no matter how terrified he purported to be - Fitz shifted a bit closer to her. Just his presence was reassuring, and Jemma took a deep breath before starting in on the forest of hands in front of them. 

“Yes, Dr. Croft?” She asked. 

“How many drones are in a set?” The engineer asked. He was from the Triskelion, if she remembered correctly, which she did. 

“Seven,” Fitz supplied. 

“Why seven?” 

“Well each D.W.A.R.F. scans for a slightly different thing, and seven seemed to be the right number for maximum data collection,” Fitz explained. 

“So not because of the seven dwarves in Snow White?” Croft asked, eliciting a chuckle from the audience. 

“A happy accident,” Jemma smiled, eliciting more laughter. “Seven was an appropriate number. As you can see each drone collects different data, and we thought that collecting information on sounds, smells, sights, chemical compounds, electromagnetic fields, object telemetry, and biological residues was an optimal mix.” She could see nods throughout the crowd reinforcing their decision to make seven of the little machines, and that gave her a bit of confidence. 

“Anyone else?” She asked brightly. More hands shot up and she chose one from the side of the room. 

She and Fitz worked their way through all of the questions over the next half hour, and by the time they were done Jemma was equal parts frazzled and excited. Everyone had been supportive of their project and all agreed that it would be very useful, especially for field technicians. The attending agents hadn't even needed to confer after the questions were over and they had signed off on the project without hesitation, which meant that she and Fitz had officially graduated from SHIELD Academy. After that point the whole experience took on a bit of a dreamlike quality as they thanked the agents and shook hands with everyone under the sun, talked to people about various job opportunities, and discussed their ongoing work. It became a bit of an excited blur and Jemma soon gave up on trying to remember people's names or faces, instead just letting the experience wash over her. She kept glancing at Fitz, who would alternately get pulled away from her to speak to someone else but always drifted back to her side.

She wasn't sure how much later it was when she found herself standing on the curb of the Paris conference centre SHIELD had taken over for the weekend, her hand wound tightly around Fitz’s arm, grinning so widely her face hurt. 

“Did we just-?” Fitz asked, looking just as dazed as she felt. 

“I think so?” She said. 

He laughed incredulously and that snapped her out of her trance. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. 

“Fitz we did it! We’re SHIELD agents!” He hugged her back just as enthusiastically and they laughed together for a moment until Jemma’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She let him go and reached for it, grinning as she read through the messages. 

“It's the others,” she said, referring to their classmates who were also presenting at the SHIELD gathering, “they're already done. They're at that pub by the hotel celebrating. Shall we join them?” 

He grinned. “Sure, I could do with a pint. Can we go back to the hotel and get changed first?” he pulled at his suit with distaste and Jemma giggled. She knew how much Fitz hated being dressed up, instead preferring his button downs and jeans. So did she, really. And she would be happy to get out of her heels. So they hailed a cab and gave it directions to their hotel, a beautiful old building just a couple blocks from the Eiffel Tower. Which they still hadn't visited, Jemma reminded herself. Maybe she could talk Fitz into it for the morning. 

As they drove back to the hotel, the feeling of euphoria washing over Jemma didn't dissipate. She was bouncing in her seat, and she kept touching Fitz, her hands skimming down his arms or brushing over his fingers like he was some kind of touchstone for her excitement. When they reached the hotel she nearly ran upstairs, agreeing to meet Fitz in the lobby in fifteen minutes after she got changed. She hummed all the way to her room and danced her way through changing out of her blazer and pencil skirt into skinny jeans and a scoop neck blouse that was maybe a bit more revealing than she was usually comfortable with - they were celebrating after all - and even her phone dinged she danced her way over to it too. 

Message from: Tom: hey babe, I can't make it to Paris today. I'm swamped. Hope your thing went well though. Love you. 

Her happiness fled her skin and she sat down on the edge of her bed. She wasn't sure which part was worse - that Tom had waited until so late to tell her he wasn't coming, that he didn't remember what her “thing” was even called, or that she wasn't unduly surprised by any of it. Jemma finished gathering up her purse and coat and left her room to meet Fitz. She certainly wasn't going to let Tom wreck her evening; after all she and Fitz had just become the youngest ever graduates of SHIELD Academy and that deserved celebrating. So she squared her shoulders, tried to relax her mouth out of the thin line it was pressed into, and went downstairs. 

Fitz knew immediately that something was wrong. The light that had effused Jemma from head to toe at the conference centre was gone, replaced by a grim sort of smile that said to him boy troubles. She had worn that look the first time Tom had bailed on a date, and whenever he had brushed off her explanations of their lab work. Needless to say, Fitz wasn't exactly sure why someone as brilliant and beautiful as Jemma was still with a guy like that, but he had never felt comfortable talking to her about her taste in men. He was afraid that conversation would begin and end with “why don't you just date me? I would treat you like the most precious thing in the world.” And he would, but they were just colleagues. Though when she looked like she did tonight and she smiled at him like he was the only thing she wanted to see waiting for her in the lobby, it was pretty hard for him to remember. 

“Shall we?” She asked brightly, in the tone of voice that said she didn't want to talk about it. He considered pushing for a second, but it was always a toss up whether pushing Jemma would end up with her haltingly telling him her problems or angrily storming away, so he decided not to. She'd tell him when she was ready, he hoped. So he offered her his arm and when she took it he tucked her hand against his side, as if that could convey his support of her. 

The walk to the pub was quick, easily within drunken stumbling distance. It took them past the edge of the Champ De Mars, the park where the Eiffel Tower was located. They could see it from the sidewalk, and Jemma sighed at it longingly but didn't say anything. Fitz narrowed his eyes, a plan forming in his head as they passed. The pub was close to the park, and their friends were all waiting for them. They cheered as they walked in, and were greeted by a round of “Agent Fitz! Agent Simmons!” which finally made Jemma smile again. 

Beers were shoved into their hands as soon as they slid into the booth, and then the others crowded in around them. 

“We heard Agent Xiao and Agent Weaver talking about your presentation. They were really excited!” Maureen Young said. She was a fellow biochemist and even though she was a few years older than either of them she had always been exceptionally kind. 

“Really?” Jemma asked, that beaming smile coming back out again. Fitz just sat back and enjoyed it. 

“Yeah. You were the talk of the conference, just like we said you'd be,” Darren Morowitz teased. He had been Fitz’s roommate first year, and had gone on to aeronautical engineering. 

“Oh hush we were not,” Jemma said, “what about your self-repairing plascrete? Hard to beat that!” 

Darren waved her off, smiling his crooked-toothed smile. He was the epitome of a nerdy looking guy, with frizzy brown hair, square glasses, and a tall, gangly frame that certainly couldn't pass a field test. “They liked it, but not as much as yours.” 

“How about we stop comparing and order shots?” Su Yin Lao suggested. She was a molecular engineer and she had passed her presentation on spider-produced graphene early that day. Hers was the only other presentation Fitz and Simmons had had time to see before they prepped for theirs, and it had been just as methodical, meticulous, and straightforward as Su Yin herself. 

“Yes, shots!” Maureen crowed. She grabbed Su Yin and dragged her towards the bar to order for everyone. 

As soon as they were gone Darren was back at it, leaning across the table so he could ask, “But seriously, it went well?” in his best big brother tone. 

“Yeah, it was good. Agent Croft from the Triskelion had lots of questions but that's pretty typical of him,” Fitz said. 

Darren nodded. “Any job offers?”

“A couple,” Jemma said noncommittally. She didn't like to speculate on things like positions or projects until she knew for sure what she was doing, and she and Fitz hadn't even talked about it yet. The only thing they knew was that they weren't going to go to separate positions. It would be together or nothing. 

“Correction, any good job offers?” Darren asked, misinterpreting Jemma’s reluctance. 

They were saved from having to answer him by Maureen and Su Yin returning, hands full of little glasses of colourful liquid. They set down enough glasses for everyone to have two shots and passed the first one around. It was an orange color and when Fitz smelled it it he recognized cognac and orange liqueur. 

“Cheers to the newest Agents of SHIELD!” Maureen said, careful to keep her voice down. They clinked glasses and everyone knocked their shots back. Fitz suppressed a shudder. It had been just as awful tasting as he had feared. 

The second was no better, though it was sweet enough to choke a fairy. After that the night became louder and brighter, and after the fourth round of shots mixed in with the pitchers of beer on the table, the evening began to blur. At some point Jemma relaxed enough to cheer up, and Fotz slung a casual arm along the top of the bench seat behind her. After their latest round of shots - a drop shot, because they needed to pound another beer like they needed extra holes in the head - Jemma leaned into him and stayed there. Fitz’s side was on fire with the sensation of her pressed against him, and he wouldn't have moved for all the money in the world. 

Except that the pub had karaoke and while sober Jemma was demure, drunk Jemma loved her a good performance. Fitz slammed two more shots at Darren’s urging and the night went from blurry to downright sloppy. 

They sang - horribly - and Jemma couldn't walk straight - neither could he - so they clutched each other and stumbled. Darren kept pressing mugs of beer on him, his wide crooked grin at full wattage. Su Yin’s normally impeccably straight black hair was rumpled and her sweater was hanging by one arm when she got up to sing, though she was surprisingly good, all things considered. Darren had to catch her when she was climbing down from the stage, and the two tumbled back into the booth in a tangle of limbs and too loud laughter. Maureen, who was holding her alcohol with a temerity that was a bit incredible, couldn't stop giggling and she kept looking at the rest of them like she knew a secret. Fitz’s face hurt from smiling, and Jemma hadn't let go of him since their third drinks. 

It took a while - and a lot more liquid courage than he should like to admit - but eventually Fitz got up the nerve to ask. 

“Tom’s not coming, is he?” 

Jemma scowled, her lips turning down at the corners and her eyes welling up. Fitz wished he could eat his words. 

“No,” she said, “bloody wanker.” She gasped and covered her mouth. Fitz couldn't help but grin, though he stopped when she swatted him. 

“Hey! I'm not laughing at you, well, yeah I sorta am, but because you can't say wanker without embarrasin’ yourself,” he protested. Jemma blushed but giggled a bit. 

“I can! Wanker!” She blushed harder. The others were all listening in now, though Darren and Su Yin had yet to move apart. 

“Wait, who's a wanker?” Darren asked. 

“Tom. He was supposed to show up and he's not. He hasn't. He didn't,” Maureen supplied, wincing at her inability to speak straight. Of course she’d been listening in. Darren booed and Su Yin pulled a face, clearly expressing their opinions of him. Fitz felt slightly vindicated that none of their small circle liked the guy. 

“He is a wanker,” Su Yin declared. “A right tosser. Did I get that right?” She was not British. 

“I'm sorry Jem,” Fitz slurred, beginning to feel bad for even bringing it up. 

“No, don't be. He is a wanker, an’ I'm done with him,” she said, her words slurring over each other. Fitz couldn't help the little frisson of happiness that shot through him upon hearing that. Every time Jemma and a boyfriend split up he thought maybe he'd give it a shot, but he never quite managed to get there. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to say anything she usually already had another fling going - who could blame the men, all they had to do was speak to her to be pulled into her radiance - and he would convince himself that they were better as friends anyways. 

The others cheered, though Fitz tried to remain stoic and supportive. 

“Fuck him, he's an ass,” Maureen declared. 

“Actually don't fuck him. He's not that great,” Jemma said, to the great surprise of everyone at the table. There was a moment of stunned silence and then everyone burst out laughing. 

“Oh god I'm drunk,” Jemma moaned. 

“Me too,” Fitz replied. The others echoed their sentiment and then as if from nowhere another round of shots was on their table and they were clinking glasses again. The night blurred again and when it came back into focus Fitz and Jemma were still sitting in the booth, though they were alone now. 

“D’you wanna get outta here?” Fitz asked, leaning closer to Jemma so she could hear him over the roar of music and voices. Su Yin and Darren were up singing again, and Maureen was at the bar chatting up a brooding Frenchman. Fitz’s nose brushed Jemma's hair. She smelled like vanilla and sanitizer and tea. She smelled like home. She turned her head slightly so she could reply, bringing her face so close to his he couldn't focus on both her eyes at once. Though that could also have something to do with the drinks. 

“Mhm. You takin’ me home?” She asked. She blinked at him when he sputtered a bit, but he couldn't for the life of him read her expression. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Or did she mean that they were in the same hotel and they could stumble back together? He decided to go with the second one. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, and the rest of the words about the hotel and walking her home safely never made it out of his mouth. Jemma leaned slightly closer to his face, so close that he could feel her breath on his lips, and he thought just maybe if he leaned forward- 

“Okay!” She exclaimed brightly, and swayed away from him again. 

Fitz haltingly settled their bill at the counter, his French distinctly unimproved by the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, and deflected the knowing grins of their friends. He had to haul Jemma upright by her arms, her head tilted back as she giggled the whole way up, and then slung one of her loose limbs over his shoulders so he could keep her upright. They staggered together out of the bar. 

The night was clear, crisp, and bracingly refreshing. Jemma perked up considerably as soon as they were out the door, and pretty soon they were stumbling off in the vague direction of their hotel while she chatted animatedly in his ear. 

“Anyways, like I was saying, Tom can go screw himself for all I care. That's pretty much what he was doing anyways, when we - y’know.” Fitz did know, and didn't want to talk about it. She was on a roll though and he was so busy concentrating on why his feet weren't moving where he told them to that he didn't particularly have the energy to reply. 

“I dunno why I thought this would be different. He didn't really care about our research, y’know-” he knew “- and he didn't like you. Stupid wanker. Not you,” she added belatedly. That was news to Fitz though. He hadn't much cared for Tom but he'd had no indication that the other man felt the same way. 

“Shoulda dumped him on the spot, when he said- oh Fitz look at the pretty lights!” They had just reached the Champ de Mars and Jemma had dragged him to a halt so she could stare at the lights lining the Eiffel Tower. Fitz desperately wanted to ask her what Tom had said about him - in a depressing sort of way he actually cared a bit what that wanker thought - but the joy that suffused Jemma’s face as she stared at the tower was too beautiful to ruin. 

“Let's go up there,” he suggested instead. 

Her head swung round and she gaped at him, hope and drunken giddiness warring on her face. “Can we?” She gasped. 

“Course we can. Come on, you been sayin’ you want t’ go up there since we got here,” he reminded her. Jemma dropped her arms from around him and clapped with excitement. 

“Brilliant,” she declared. She grabbed his hand in hers and interlaced their fingers. 

“Come on!” She urged, and they strolled off up the Champ de Mars, along the pathways that lined the narrow park. It was beautiful at night with warm golden lights in the trees and lovely benches scattered about. The Eiffel Tower leant over the whole scene, and between it and Jemma’s smile Fitz couldn't have imagined a place he'd rather be. 

He wasn't sure how long it took them to get to the base of the tower, but he did know that Jemma never once let go of his fingers, and he had no intention of releasing hers. Only once they reached one of the corners of the tower did he let her go, but that was only because he had to touch the incredible ironwork that formed the structure. 

“Did you know this was built in 1889?” He asked her, running his fingers over the wrought iron. “It was supposed to be the entrance to the World Faire.” 

“Really?” She sounded interested, but when he glanced at her she huffed a melodramatic sigh, her eyes twinkling. 

“Shoulda known not to bring an engineer,” she muttered, turning away as if she was going to head to the lineup without him. She tossed a grin over her shoulder so he knew she was teasing. She squealed when he grabbed her wrist and tugged her back towards him, her exaggerated surprise turning into giggles as he wrapped his hand around hers again. He lifted her hand up in his and kissed the backs of her knuckles and her giggles died out. Internally, Fitz was panicking. It had been a reflex and he shouldn't have done it and she was going to run and - she smiled softly at him, then gently pulled him towards the lineup. 

They didn't speak during their wait for tickets, and by unspoken agreement when they reached the seller they purchased tickets for the top. Again without speaking they then queued for the lifts, given that neither of them was in any condition to climb three hundred stairs. When it was their turn they crowded into the elevators and Jemma tucked herself under his arm in an apparent effort to make more space for all the people waiting. Fitz wasn't complaining. In fact he was feeling a sort of airy lightness, like he was floating above himself and watching from a distance. Usually he would never dream of being this physical with Jemma, mostly because he was convinced she would never want him to be. But here she was initiating it and reclaiming his hands or arms whenever they happened to get separated, and even at this very moment she was squeezed under his shoulder and sporting a positively blissful little smile. He couldn't help but feel like if he had ever had a clear shot at _something_ with her it was now. This was the most romantic place on earth and they were a bit drunk and if not now then when?

He kept her under his arm when the lift opened into the second floor and they got out to stroll around. There was a restaurant here as well as the viewing platforms, but they stuck to the edges by the rails. Jemma was glowing. She stared out at the old buildings and winding streets of Paris, which looked from here as if it hadn't changed since the tower was first built. Fitz stared at her. 

“It's beautiful,” she said, and he'd have been hard pressed to argue. He turned his attention to the city instead, shifting just a bit so her hips and waist were touching his. They stood like that for a long while, just looking out at the city by night, and then Jemma turned towards him. 

“Thank you,” she said. She sounded much clearer now. His own buzz was fading as well, replaced by the insistent longing of wanting Jemma Simmons. 

“For what?” He asked. 

“For this,” she gestured at the city. She bit her lip and smiled up at him from under her eyelashes. “For everything, really. For being my Fitz.” They stared at each other. Fitz was sure all of his longing was written plain on his face. 

The way she said his name sent shivers of electricity down his bones and Fitz opened his mouth to let fly all the things he wanted to say. “Jem-" 

“Mamihlapinatapai,” she said. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Gesundheit?” He asked. 

“Merci,” she said, and they burst into laughter. She turned her hips towards him so she was fully facing him and he mirrored her. She rested one hand on his chest, her fingers curling into his sweater. 

“Mamihlapinatapai,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, “it's Yaghan for the feeling of longing two people share when they both want something with each other but neither wants to initiate it.” 

Fitz felt like he couldn't breathe. His hand was on her hip now and he didn't know when it had gotten there. “Is that what you - I mean - is that -” 

“Isn't it?” She asked. She worried at her lip with her teeth and he could see her anxiety building when it took him a minute. Truth be told he wished it could take him a hell of a lot longer than a minute to figure out. What was she asking of him? Was he just drunk? Was she angry at Tom and wanting a rebound? 

“Never mind-” she started. He cut her off, because that was definitely not the direction he wanted this to go. 

“No! I mean, yes, I mean- damn it! Jemma, you have to know how I feel about you, don't you? Isn't it obvious?” He asked. 

“Not to me,” she whispered. 

Something in Fitz’s brain just snapped. He had always thought she'd seen it but hadn't wanted him, or hadn't known how to be with him. He hadn't thought she hadn't noticed, since to him it had been as plain as breathing. He ducked his head. 

“Christ Jemma I've been in love with you since the day you nearly burned my eyebrows off in chem lab. I know you don't-” 

Jemma’s slender hands cupped his chin and she tilted his face to just the right angle so she could press her lips to his. Fitz’s brain short circuited and all he could do was clutch her closer. It was a short kiss, sweet but simple and when Jemma pulled away she was smiling. 

“What were you saying about me not feeling the same way?” She asked. 

Fitz couldn't help but lean in to kiss her again. This time she rose on her toes to meet him and when her tongue flicked over his lips he groaned a little. He pulled back first this time though and grinned at her. Not that he had any problems with making out with the girl he'd been in love with for years on top of the Eiffel Tower, but still. He could think of more comfortable places to do it. 

“I was saying, is there a word for two people who've finally figured it out?” 

Jemma grinned her most mischievous grin. “Yeah,” she said, “Fitzsimmons.” 


End file.
